


Glitter

by abkvs



Category: Long Exposure (Webcomic)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Genderswap, Spin the Bottle, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 21:38:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14364216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abkvs/pseuds/abkvs
Summary: It wasn't easy to pin down what she was feeling as she watched the brown beer bottle spin, splattering little droplets at her knees whenever it went by. It was anxiety, it was nervousness, it was a little bit of hope that she wasn't yet ready to admit was there. How was she supposed to feel, sitting next to her crush, whose friends had barged into the room while they had been working on their science project, equipped with cheap beer and bad ideas?(Girlfriends AU!)





	Glitter

**Author's Note:**

> Mars waved some dollar bills in my face to write this girlfriends au prompt, and since you know I'm all about accepting money to write things I would have been down to write for free anyways, here we are. :^)
> 
> (It's worth mentioning, since we're here, that it's not ok to sell fan merch, other fan works, or otherwise turn a profit off of the comic w/o explicit permission! Or, like in my case, get Mars to stuff money into your proverbial thong.)

_What am I even_ doing _here?_

Joan's heart was lodged in her throat. The only thing keeping her stuck to the somewhat crusty carpet that lined Michelle's bedroom was nerves. It wasn't easy to pin down what she was feeling as she watched the brown beer bottle spin, splattering little droplets at her knees whenever it went by. It was anxiety, it was nervousness, it was a little bit of hope that she wasn't yet ready to admit was there. How was she supposed to feel, sitting next to her crush, whose friends had barged into the room while they had been working on their science project, equipped with cheap beer and bad ideas? How was she supposed to feel when, after everyone had taken a swig (except for herself—Joan had taken and then choked on a tiny, polite sip), Josefina declared that they were going to play a game of spin the bottle? Was she more scared of having to be kissed by one of Michelle's friends, or by the prospect of maybe kissing Michelle? Her freckled cheeks couldn't hide the pink that was warning them; it was all she could do not to glow.

When the bottle stopped, it was pointed at Clem. Josefina had spun it—honestly, she had started the game without much say so from anyone else. Clem looked like she wanted to complain, but then, Joan thought Clem always looked like that. Bite was as jittery as ever, and Michelle… well. Joan was having trouble peeking at her. She was pretty sure she'd fall to pieces if she tried. This was way too much.

Joan watched, embarrassed, as Josefina planted a very chaste kiss on Clem's cheek. “Like that,” Josefina said. “Easy, right?” Easy was not the word Joan would have picked, but she nodded anyways. Michelle's friends still made her a little nervous, if only because she didn't know what to expect of them. They were so much more spontaneous than her own friends.

“Or you can kiss 'em on the mouth, if yer not a coward,” Bite added with a cackle as Clem settled her jaw to take her turn.

Clem spun the bottle and got Bite, who also got a very simple cheek kiss with zero commentary. Bite then lunged at the bottle and gave it a whack that made it spin right into Joan's knee. Bite clambered over to her and Joan flinched for impact, expecting a kiss that was equally as energetic, but instead, she was graced with a gentle peck atop her head.

Oh. Well, that wasn't so bad. Maybe she could just do that to whoever she got, Joan thought as she pushed the bottle back into the middle of their circle and gave it a soft spin. It only went around once, slowly, before landing on… Oh. Oh no.

Oh _no._

The dripping rim of the bottle was pointing right at Michelle.

Joan raised her eyes to Michelle, who was looking a little stunned herself. Joan wasn't sure if it was a good look or a bad one. Was it disgust or embarrassment fueling those wide eyes and confused, thinly parted lips?

They might have stayed that way, looking at each other while pointedly avoiding making direct eye contact, if Clem hadn't said, “Get on with it already!” The other two laughed. Michelle cleared her throat and glared over at them to bark back a “Shut up!”

Joan inhaled, bit her lip, and pushed herself up to smack her lips into Michelle's cheek. Or, that was her intention, anyways. Instead, Michelle looked back at her just in time for their lips to meet.

_Her lips are so soft._

Joan sucked in a breath. Time had stopped; everything was moving in slow motion. Michelle's big, slender hand was reaching out for her, grabbing her own tiny hand, squeezing it. She hadn't expected Michelle's lips to feel like this. She figured they would be rough and cracked, but they weren't. They were just soft. Soft, like that smile that Michelle gave her when she thought Joan wasn't looking. Soft, like the way her heart felt when they were alone together. Soft, like—

“Fuckin' nice!” Bite cheered, shattering the fantasy as reality came tumbling back into Joan's world.

Joan melted back onto her knees as fluttering ribbons of pink flickered around her. Everyone was laughing, or so it seemed. She covered her burning hot face with her hands and stumbled over a profuse apology. “Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to—”

“It—it's fine,” Michelle said, her own face a blistering shade of red as she cleared her throat and took the bottle.

Joan barely heard her. She was beyond mortified. Of all the people—of all the things—of all the places! And—well—okay, sure, she'd thought about kissing Michelle before. Maybe once or twice in the past… day. So far. Maybe she picked the skirt she had on today because she was feeling a little flirty, and yeah, maybe she had already confessed to her brother that she maybe-kinda-sorta had a crush on Michelle, which made it a whole lot more real than when it was just a wild thought bouncing around in her head. But still! This was not the first kiss she had imagined, not by a long shot. And besides that, there was no way that Michelle returned her feelings, anyways. Michelle was her _bully,_ for crying out loud. They had become friends by accident. This was all an accident. That kiss was an accident. Michelle definitely hadn't kinda kissed her back, she was just imagining that. It was wishful thinking. It could never happen.

Joan's hands fell back into her lap, where they fidgeted with the hem of her skirt as a few more turns went by. She wasn't really paying attention. She was replaying that awful excuse for a kiss over and over in her mind and hitting herself for it and—

“—Joanie, Earth to Spots.”

Joan sucked in a breath as her head jerked up in the direction of her name. Michelle. It was Michelle. It was Michelle looking somewhere between flustered and cocky, like she couldn't figure out which emotion to express. It was kind of cute. Was Michelle embarrassed? No way.

“Wha—uh, yeah?” Joan asked. “What's up?”

“Kiss de girl,” Josefina said from her far left, doing a bad imitation of Sebastian the crab.

Joan's face ran red again in an instant.

“God, shut _up,_ Jose,” Michelle snapped at Josefina before turning back to Joan with an only slightly better-composed look on her face. “Hey, Joanie, you don't gotta. I can make these dicks leave if you want.”

Joan bit her lip again, worrying over it for a moment before shaking her head. “It's just a game,” she made herself say. “It's not a big deal.”

“Yeah—uh, yeah. So, uh…” Michelle's brows furrowed a bit. “We're playin' the game, so…”

Joan nodded as Michelle's hand found hers again, clutching it as if for strength as she leaned down and kissed her again.

Her whole world came to a halt as Michelle kissed her square on the lips. It was intentional. It was lingering, delicate, and nervous. Joan didn't know Michelle did nervous; she always seemed so sure of herself, so strong and fearless. This vulnerability, this was new, but more than that, it was intimate. Michelle was a pillar of strength, a force to be reckoned with, a girl who, Joan had always thought, felt neither fear nor regret. But here, in Michelle's bedroom, suddenly that ideal was unraveling, and Joan was as far from disappointed as a person could possibly be.

Was this because of her? The thought was a brief spark in the back of her clouding mind, but it made her breath catch in her throat all the same. When she felt Michelle's lips begin to part from hers, she couldn't stop herself from pushing in against her. The spark made her brave. She wanted to believe and needed to know. Could Michelle like her back? In this delirious moment, a second stretched infinitely in all directions, anything seemed possible.

Joan felt long fingers, slightly trembling, cup her cheek and wind into her wild, curly hair. Something in her chest bloomed, sending her arms rocketing up to wrap around Michelle's shoulders. She wasn't thinking anymore. Everything was instinct and need, and _god,_ she was needy. If this was a dream, Joan wanted to sleep forever. She could feel Michelle's thin lips split and open and hers did the same. Michelle's hand was moving up her thigh, up her waist, dipping under the hem of her shirt and Joan couldn't breathe and—

“Ahem.”

Joan's eyes snapped open as she and Michelle ripped themselves out of each other's arms with such force that they both landed further apart than they'd been sitting before. Michelle's friends were grinning at them mischievously. Joan's face flushed an almost comical red as she shot her eyes down to her knees and locked them there.

“Fuck off!” Michelle snapped, grabbing the item closest to her—a dirty sock—and lobbing it at her friends, who only laughed. Her face was as red as Joan's, maybe more. Joan wasn't sure; she wasn't brave enough to take more than a peek now that the electricity that had powered her was gone. The only thing that was for sure was that neither of them could look at the other.

“Daaamn, you got good at this fast,” Bite said, his brows raised and his grin as unhinged as ever. “What'd I say? Kiss 'em on the lips if you're not a coward.”

“Bite, I swear to god—” Michelle started to growl, but Josefina cut her off.

“Joan, you gotta spin it,” Josefina said, her tone kinder than Joan would have expected of Michelle's friends. Had all her bungling managed to impress them somehow? Or was she so obviously fragile that even Michelle's take-no-prisoners crew was moved to tiptoe around her? Joan pursed her lips as she reached out for the bottle and gave it another spin, harder this time than before. It landed back on Josefina, and Joan swallowed thickly as she moved awkwardly over to kiss her temple. When Joan collapsed back into her spot, closer to Michelle than she had been before, the game resumed.

Josefina got Clem, Clem got Michelle, and Joan laughed with everyone else as both of them grumbled through the whole ordeal of Clem awkwardly kissing the top of Michelle's head.

Joan peeked up at Michelle, who peeked down at her, and they both smiled tiny smiles at each other. Something had changed, but it was for the better. The tension had evaporated. Joan felt like she could see more clearly than before, like the colors in the room had become more vibrant.

It was five more rounds before the bottle saw fit to pair Michelle and Joan together again. This time, before they could move, Josefina stuck up a hand. “Ah-ahh,” she tutted. “You got each other three times! You know what that means, right?”

Joan did not, but Bite was there to goad them both on with a drawl of “Seven minutes in heavennnn!”

“Sev—!” Michelle started to say, but Bite and Josefina we're already up and herding them both into Michelle's tiny closet. “I swear—Jose! Hey!” Michelle barked, but she clearly wasn't resisting with her body nearly as much as she was with her mouth—and Joan didn't have a bone of resistance in her nervous body—and soon they had both been dumped inside a closet barely big enough to fit a broom, much less two bodies. A thud told Joan that someone was sitting against the door to keep it closed in lieu of a lock that must not have been there.

The space was cramped, to say the very least. Joan's round body mushed against the wall, and Michelle's long limbs seemed to tangle and clatter against everything. They were pressed against each other with barely enough room to breathe, but with some grunting and pulling, they managed to set their bodies right. Joan found herself leaning back against a wall with Michelle towering over her, her form eclipsing Joan's every inch.

Michelle made her feel small. Once upon a time, that had been a bad thing. Michelle used to make her scared, used to make her want to run and hide. Just a few weeks ago, being trapped anywhere with Michelle would have been her worst nightmare. But now… It was different. Michelle made her feel soft. Michelle made her feel confident, safe, and happy.

“Joanie,” Michelle whispered. Her face was so close, and this time, Joan couldn't take her eyes off it. “Joanie, we don't have to… if you don't want to. They're just being jerks. It's okay to—to say no.” Her voice seemed to crack around the edges.

“Do you want me to say no?” Joan whispered back, bolder than she had intended. Maybe it was that tiny sip of alcohol talking. Maybe it was the electricity from their second kiss running her mouth like a puppet. No… It wasn't either of those. It was Michelle's face. She looked nervous. She looked scared, genuinely, and worried. She looked like part of her was ready to break. A soft pink began to light up the tiny space. “Because I want to say yes.”

Michelle's lips crashed into hers in an instant. Joan's chest heaved upwards as they tangled around each other, desperately grasping at limbs and clothes as if that was all that would keep them from falling apart.

Michelle kissed her and kissed her and kissed her again, punctuating each with a needful “Joanie,” or a hitch of her breath, or a “fuck,” like she was exploding from the inside out. Joan reached up and found Michelle's face and steadied it, then pulled her down for a kiss that lingered long. Their lips parted against each other again, wetness holding them together as Joan's shy tongue found the inside of Michelle's mouth. It was amazing. Sure, Michelle tasted a little like beer and distantly like smoke, but Joan didn't care. That was Michelle's flavor, and she decided right then and there that she loved it more than any other taste in the world.

Michelle's hands were searching her again, smoothing along her thighs and the dips and curves of her waist. She never lingered too long in one spot, as if she wanted too much to touch every inch of Joan and couldn't settle on one place to rest. Joan wasn't sure she could choose, either, but it didn't matter. Michelle's touch lit up every part of her it passed over. Michelle palmed at the fat of her belly and rubbed over the roundness of her thighs, each grip and pass as reverent as it was hungry. She flicked up the hem of Joan's shirt and began to search her way up, smoothing her thumb along stretch marks here and there as she went. It was amazing. Every time Michelle paused, Joan would kiss her again to egg her on.

“ _Please,_ ” Joan whispered. Her shuddering breath betrayed her desperation.

Michelle's hands surged upwards, cupping the sides of Joan's breasts as she pushed herself deeper into her space. Her bra had a front clasp that Michelle found quickly and undid even faster, allowing the soft mounds to pool in her hands instead. Michelle's thumbs found Joan's soft nipples and drew circles around them, making each tender bud rise quickly into nubs for her bony fingers to squeeze. It was evil.

It was incredible.

It was better than Joan had ever dreamed—and she _had_ dreamed—but Michelle wasn't done. One hand parted from Joan's chest to bury under her skirt. Affirmation came quickly from the way Joan flung her arms around Michelle's shoulders and lifted her hips like a reflex. She had touched herself more than once just imagining what Michelle's big hands would feel like between her thighs, and now it was real. It was happening. Michelle's fingertips grazed over her crotch and rubbed through fabric against her pubic mound. Joan was sure Michelle could feel how wet she was even with two layers of fabric between them. And that grin? Oh, god, that grin, it said yes, yes she absolutely could.

Joan's pink light was pulsing in time with her heartbeat. There was no darkness left to hide either face as Michelle peeled her shorts away, no shadows to hide the fact that she had worn her favourite lace-trimmed panties today. Soft pubes, just as curly as the hair on her head, peeked around the edges. Michelle looked like a dog that had just been shown water for the first time in days, and Joan? Joan was liquid. She was melting just from the heat of Michelle's gaze and the might of her presence. Her panties were soaked and her thighs were tense and when Michelle kissed her again, she moaned right into her mouth.

Joan's vision blurred when Michelle slid her hand between fabric and skin found the little bead of her clit. The lower half of her body seized up as her nerves went off like fireworks. It was just one touch, just one, and she was already at the edge. Nothing she could ever possibly do to herself could compare to the raw sensation of another person's skin against her own. She would have cum from the next twitch of Michelle's wrist, too, had the outside world not come back, abrupt and obnoxious, to greet her.

“Time's up! Did you kids have fun?”

Josefina's voice, accompanied by a firm knock on the closet door shattered her bubble. Joan felt her face go up in flames. The door didn't have a lock—someone was sitting against it—they would have been able to hear _everything,_ she thought, the wave of panic forcing a knot into her gut. How loud had her needy whispers been? How much had they heard?

Her bubbling paranoia was cut short by Michelle's arm ripping upwards to grasp the knob and hold the door closed. “Fuck off!” she yelled at the door, a snarl on her burning red face.

Joan giggled. Seeing Michelle like this, her pale cheeks bright red and her face twisted with a mix of anger and embarrassment, was endearing. She was getting pieces of Michelle today that she never thought in a million years she'd see—and all of this was on top of the fact that Michelle's hand was still buried in her panties, which was life-changing in and of itself. Despite the shame of someone hearing them tugging at her heart, she was happy.

A laugh came from the other side, along with a playful tug of the doorknob that made Michelle falter and fall forward a bit. That, in turn, jolted Michelle enough that the hand left dangerously perched inside of Joan's underwear curled, pressing hard against her clit—and that made Joan moan, _loud._ She clapped her hands over her mouth a moment later but it was too late. Outside of the door, she heard a whoop and the slap of a high-five being exchanged.

“Assholes!” Michelle shouted, which got her only laughter in return. The click of her bedroom door followed a moment later, the laughter now muted and fading. They were gone.

Michelle looked back down to Joan, unable to look her in the eye. “They fucking planned this!” she said, her tone trapped somewhere between exasperated and impressed.

Joan giggled again, unable to help herself. “What a mess,” she said, smiling up at Michelle as her pink light pulsed around them.

Michelle let go of the doorknob and their bodies spilled out of the closet. Their limbs tangled together, impeding Michelle's desperate attempts to pull the clothes from Joan's body. Neither could seem to decide whose hands were meant to go where, and after a minute of fumbling, they collapsed on top of each other, still exchanging joyous, giggly kisses.

Joan was breathless. Her heart felt like fireworks and glitter; all of the nerves, all of her anxiety, it had evaporated completely. Michelle collapsed on top of her, her face buried in her neck as she sucked deep purple hickeys on her freckled skin. Joan laughed and pushed at her weakly. It tickled a bit, but it didn't really bother her. She was happy.

Joan pulled Michelle's head away from her neck and back into a proper kiss. She couldn't get enough of Michelle's lips, her taste, the way her breath released all at once every time their mouths clashed—as if that moment, every single time, was the event her whole life had been leading up to. Joan relished the way Michelle gripped her hair, the way her chest heaved and her whole body pushed forward. Michelle _wanted_ her. Michelle wanted her as badly as she wanted Michelle—maybe even more.

“Joanie—god, Joanie, I,” Michelle began to say as she pulled herself away, gazing down at Joan's flushed face. Her thought drifted off, as if Joan's half-lidded eyes, parted pink lips, and tousled hair spread out below her like a black halo had snatched her whole vocabulary from her brain.

Joan smiled, soft yet enough to push her cheeks up into her eyes. “Me too,” she said.

As Michelle pushed her thighs open and lowered her head between them, Joan let her head fall to the side. Her idle gaze fell on the brown beer bottle that had gotten them here. It had rolled over to the far end of the room, discarded and on its side against the wall. A tiny droplet was hanging stubbornly on to the rim. Joan probably would have had some poetic thought, some musing on how she couldn't have imagined this just an hour ago, but when Michelle's tongue found her, her mind went blank.

That was fine. She was happy. She was right where she belonged.


End file.
